What He Needs
by artemisgoddess16
Summary: What could he say? How could he excuse this? The answer was, he couldn’t. For once in Dr. James Wilson’s life he was absolutely and unequivocally ashamed to call House his friend. LEMON, HOUSExWILSON sexual content COMPLETE
1. Ch 1 Getting there

This is to cheer up one of my best friends, Indigo Night, hope you and she enjoys.

A/N: READ OR REGRET! Let me first tell you that all of this is based on a paltry amount episode watching, and spoilers for season 5 ending yeah none of it is correct. I KNOW. Don't bother me about it. If you don't like slash, well get off the page. Criticism about grammar, plot holes etc. are fine but don't flame me, it's annoying. Well this is based off the season 5 ender so yeah read if you want.

It was almost impossible to see him like this. House popping Vicodin pills _ad nauseum_ was almost insurmountably better than House lying prone in a sick bed. If Wilson hadn't wanted to see House clean so badly, he might've gotten him discharged a few days earlier. Having to watch House go through mental rehabilitation while suffering Vicodin withdrawal was agonizing. Wilson couldn't shake the hard tugs of guilt on his conscience for making his… counter-part?...psychological misfit?.. antagonist?... co-worker? stay in this god-awful place. Even if this treatment was going to make House a better doctor.

Which come to think of it they hadn't been exactly sure. Would phenomenal diagnostician Dr. Gregory House be better for the sobriety? Or would he loose all confidence? Or would he loose his license practicing medicine because of the rehab and other complications? Somehow if that happened Wilson didn't think it was going to be possible for Cutty to close the door on House. He would practice medicine where ever he damn-well wanted. Maybe he'd set up shop in the mental hospital, if he got desperate.

A smile rippled across Wilson's lips at the thought, drifting the corners of his mouth wide, only to disappear in seconds without an imprint.

He detested these long drives out to the asylum. The trip always impressed the worst kind of loneliness on him. The journey left him alone with too much time to think about things he didn't want to think about. Like Amber. The gray shade of the road was almost the twin tint to her gravestone. He could hardly pass 5 miles without thinking of her, which led to thinking about House's sporadic hallucinations of "evil Amber" and why House would see her instead of him. Wilson was the one who had loved her and lost her, shouldn't he be the one pyschobabbling about her and not House?

The problems were too heavy to ponder now, especially when going to visit his… co-worker.

Parking lines suddenly come into his field of vision.

Was considered a bad sign when you could drive from work to the loony bin on auto-pilot? Probably.

Wilson exited the car at a humiliatingly slow pace and walked up to the entrance at the thrilling speed of pouring molasses. Opening the door alone felt like a Herculean effort, and was getting harder to do every time he came here. What could he say? How could he excuse this? The answer was, he couldn't. For once in Dr. James Wilson's life he was absolutely and unequivocally _ashamed_ to call House his friend.


	2. Ch 2 Can't Touch

Ch. 2

 I always love those who come back for more abuse.

Inside the building Wilson was instantaneously greeted with the grotesque sounds of uncontrollable vomiting. He ducked into House's room; right by the entrance, per Wilson's request, only to find House was the offensive regergitator.

After a few minutes when House finally raised his haggard head from the utilitarian toilet Wilson was struck with immense relief and an almost physical pain. He was glad to know his friend wasn't heaving anymore… but seeing the rest of him was a harsh reminder of why he was compelled out get House the hell out of here.

The doctor had lost a lot of weight, his sweatshirt and pants hung off of him in a desperate display of mal-nutrition. Undoubtedly House's own doing, refusing to eat the crappy food they made here. His hair was horrendously greasy, to the point of turning black. Red eyes that shifted continuously, trembling body, flighty behavior. All of them were classic symptoms of someone going through withdrawal. Wilson had known it would get bad, but Christ House looked like a dying cancer patient.

"Going to watch while a brush my teeth mommy?" Even when looking like a tiny kitten could've beaten him up he still sharpened that unrelenting cleaver of sarcasm.

"Nope, just came to check on you." House rolled his eyes at the less than lack-luster response and stayed rooted to the ground. After a Wilson had gorged himself on the awkward silence, he began to focus on little things around the room. It would hold his attention till House eventually sent him away.

The ceiling had exactly 28 cracks in it.

House hadn't gotten up.

The bed looked like a glorified layer of straw.

House still hadn't gotten up.

The fan would stall for a minute after every sixth revolution.

_House wasn't getting up. _

"Found it more comfortable to sit on the floor than the bed?" Wilson walked over to House and jokingly pushed against house's head with his palm. The man started to lean right but threw himself on to his back with a pathetic moan. Wilson dropped to the floor, checking for any external injuries or possible injection sites. The tips of his fingers brushed House's scar and the man practically went into convulsions, mewling in intense pain.

_He's actually making the attempt to get clean… there is absolutely nothing in his system._ Wilson had that one perfectly stunning thought and looked down at House in awe.

This huge triumph over House's addiction was short-lived.

The addict punched Wilson in the face screaming for some fucking Vicodin, but the protest fell on deaf ears. House had knocked Wilson out cold.


	3. Ch 3 Something Came Up

Ch.3

And so we meet again…

Four days later and Wilson's jaw still ached every time he chewed too fast.

On the bright-side the asylum had hired a physical therapist to work with House to manage his leg's pain. They wouldn't give House any drugs, not even baby aspirin, knowing what house could probably do to it. He was making progress though. His therapist, Amelia, said House was an extraordinarily behaved man for what she did to him. Wilson didn't really piece together what that meant, in the back of his subconscious, he probably realized he'd be better off not knowing.

He had gotten off late that night, right around the time Amelia would start working on House. He figured the other man wouldn't mid if he watched the therapy session.

While successfully beginning weaning himself of the Vicodin House had also become listless and bland. The hospital staff insisted the only conversation House had anymore was with Wilson. He couldn't blame them for their naivety. Knowing House he was probably only acting so anti-social to guilt Wilson or some other unsuspecting person to either bust him out or smuggle in Vicodin.

When Wilson arrived he noticed House's door was innocently closed. Figuring this as a sign House actually would mind anyone seeing the therapy session he sat down in a small chair next to the front desk. He was going to wait until Amelia left to go in, but as soon as Wilson hit the chair he was fast asleep. Pulling double clinic duty in House's absence was exhausting.

2 hours later Wilson woke up slowly to see House leaning over him, staring in that unnerving wide-eyed way.

"When did Amelia leave?"

"She never came." House wobbled on one crutch back to his now open door, looking back to see if Wilson would follow. He took the bait.

"Oh, Did she leave you a note or anything?"

"No but I think she was going to confront her boyfriend about the baby I told her yesterday she was having."

"What?" This shocked Wilson fully awake.

"You can't be making diagnoses in rehab! It isn't safe! You aren't even on the clock anymore! They could take your license. She might get in trouble with that man for nothing!" House stared at him in a bored manner.

"Her feet were swollen, she kept running to toilet to pee or vomit, she had sustained a substantial amount of weight gain recently and her heart burn was radiating to her knees. Or so she kept telling me, so I was the good little chatter buddy and told her what she'd have found out in few months anyway. This way I just got to spoil the surprise." Wilson had forgotten how much House's sarcasm grated on the nerves.

"You still can't just…" He was running out of anger, his body too tired. House plopped onto the bed and tried not to grunt too loudly.

"And besides she should've come in anyway, your leg needs to be worked on everyday." He couldn't argue properly, sleep was hazing him.

"You could do it." House's eyes focused on him, pinning him to the ground.

"Last time I checked you were a professional like her. I'll tell you what she usually does and you can do it." Wilson didn't even object, it would've just made House angrier. Besides he might get some relief at least for a few minutes, and you were always supposed to help friends.

"Where does she start?"

"She takes off my pants." Wilson blanched a little at the order but never the less helped House shimmy out of his pants. House had gone commando that day.

"Eww man, that's gross." Wilson backed away. House only rolled his eyes.

"It's too hard to get them both on." House snapped to cover embarrassment. Wilson decided as long as he didn't touch _it _he'd be fine.

House instructed him where to put his hands and how much pressure to apply. Wilson decided the activity was beyond easy and started to drift into the having to much time to think state.

He started off thinking of Amber, like he always did and drifted into House's hallucinations again. Deciding he could zone out enough to actually _think_, he let his mind wander. He'd had psychology for a few semesters in college, and decided to analyze House's hallucinations himself. He thought long and hard deciding it was better to act like a computer, objectively.

_Amber = my lover/wife_

_Evil Amber= controlled by House's subconscious and homicidal_

_House = always hating my wives_

_House = wanting to kill my wives subconsciously… no… wanting to remove them…_

_Why= Jealous?_

_Jealous= emotion fueled by passion._

_Passion= House secretly in love with me?_

Wilson wanted to laugh at the spectacularly stupid idea when he felt something brush the back of one of his hands.

It was House. Fully erect. Lying on the back of his hand.

He snatched away his hands and ran out the door unable to even look House in the face for fear of blushing.


	4. Ch 4 mind fucking

Last ride for the long night peeps

A/N: LEMON

Ch. 4

"So you're saying what happened was perfectly normal?"

"Oh yeah, happened to me all the time as a masseuse."

"Really?"

"Ummhmm sometimes the body just reacts on a purely instinctual level. You were obviously touching him intimately; he easily became over stimulated to the point of erection. Don't worry I've had patients cum on me before so it's no big deal.. oh wait you do realize I mean they actually didn't… except for this one guy who-"

"No Amelia I get it."

"Oh good, thank god. Look I'm going to be late for my ultra-sound. If you see House tell him thanks again for the heads up."

"Wait… Amelia one last question… Did he ever… with you?"

"Nope, not once." And just like that she hung up the phone.

Wilson ended the call on his cell phone hesitantly. He'd been sitting outside the building for an hour deciding whether to go in or not.

It'd been 2 weeks since he'd come. All the staff now said House was becoming more involved. Eating and exercising working hard toward some so far unknown goal. Wilson dreaded what House had been planning by pulling a stunt like that.

He sighed frustrated; sure that House with his weird spidey sense thing knew he was out here brooding. That only made his conflict worse because he knew how much House loved screwing with him. This whole thing could have been contrived out of boredom! Well he wasn't taking it anymore. He was finally going to lose it, finally stand up to Dr. Gregory House, pain in the ass.

Wilson marched up the steps and into House's room without a second thought.

"Now look Gregory, You're finally going to hear me out."

House raised an eyebrow.

"What happened the other week was nothing; you were just over-stimulated and tired. And I didn't know how to react so I'm sorry but I refuse to let you hold this over my head and bait me and torture me with it so I'm ending this first and I'm ending it now Gregory. Okay? Now Stop mind fucking me with your games!" There that was it, he'd finally told off Dr. Gregory House, pain in the ass. He felt pretty damn good.

"You really want me to stop mind fucking you?"

"Desperately." He replied.

"Have it your way."

Before Wilson even had the chance to process his victory House slammed him into the door restraining him by the wrists and sliding his weight against Wilson. The click of the door closing sounded like a shot.

"Your leg-" Wilson was cut off by the sudden siege of his mouth. House kissed devilishly dirty and fast, forcing his tongue into Wilson's mouth not letting him cry a word of protest. The silky organ probed swiftly and sporadically, seemingly unable to decide where it wanted to be.

Wilson was in complete shock, unable to process anything until House rubbed his erection against Wilson's inner thigh. The doctor realized he had to restrain his own bulging pants by then.

House wanted to have sex with him.

House was going to have sex with him.

_Wilson was going to let him. _

The man made quick work of Wilson's pants and underwear. Wilson could tell he wanted it hard, fast, dirty and most importantly _NOW_.

But there was one little thing he had to clear up first.

"You're not trying to fuck me over or mind fuck me by doing this right?" He asked breathlessly. House smiled sexily at him, quickly disrobing himself.

"No James I just want to straight-up fuck you." House shoved himself inside of Wilson and the trapped doctor screamed. The guy was so god-damn big, he _hurt._

House cut off the pathetic cries with his mouth, quickly moving his hand down to jerk off Wilson. He felt like he was going to explode. The door underneath him bumped and screeched but Wilson couldn't have cared less. For one brief moment he was happy. He wrapped his legs around House forcing them closer together. House moaned and redoubled his efforts, rubbing and stroking biting, licking, suckling anything in reach.

Wilson couldn't take it anymore he cam onto house's chest splattering them both sticky with semen. House pounded on, forcing Wilson to another orgasm and only then did the doctor allow himself to release inside Wilson.

"That was-" Wilson swallowed.

"Don't ruin it with chick flick words, just come into the shower with me." Wilson smiled and gladly followed, wondering if the ancient door was going to collapse… if it didn't well… there were always possibilities.

The end.


End file.
